


24 years to say I love you

by Happyeverafterdoesntmeanforever



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Little bit of angst, River being vulnerable, twelve being smitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-07-06 23:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15896736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happyeverafterdoesntmeanforever/pseuds/Happyeverafterdoesntmeanforever
Summary: River and the Doctor have 24 years on Darillium- and the Doctor's going to show her that he loves her in every way he can.





	1. Chapter 1

"So." He said, letting her hand slip from his momentarily as she sat down on the bed. He'd hardly let go of her these past few hours, her hand the perfect fit to his own, her skin something newly discovered. 

"24 years." 

She smiled, that besotted smile this face had first seen a few hours ago, on that balcony. They could hear the music of the towers even here, in a luxury hotel room he'd specially booked. 

"24 years." 

She lay back on the bed, rested her hands gracefully on her stomach, and looked up at him. There was a moment when neither of them said anything, he distracted by her beauty, she contemplating something, those brows furrowed. 

She moved her legs slightly, allowing him to sit down, and then curled them around him.

"What do you need?" He said it as gently as he could, this voice unused to lover's caresses. 

"It doesn't matter what I need-" 

"No." He wasn't letting her believe that, not now. It mattered, more than the welfare of the whole universe- and if it wasn't for her disapproval, he would put her above it. "Don't do that." 

"Do what?" 

"Put me before yourself." 

He'd never said it aloud before, but they both knew exactly what he meant. It was her anger at a healed hand, her 'throw me in', that chair in a library and cables connected with barely shaking hands. 

"I'm always going to." She answered him, quietly, sitting up and facing him. 

"River." He took her hand, kissed it gently. "What do you need?" 

Go on, he wanted to whisper. Just let me in. 

She dared to meet his eyes, that vulnerability shining through. It made her all the more beautiful, his wife, the woman he loved. And yet she still felt that she had to hide from him. 

She took a shaky breath, fiercely controlling those emotions that threatened to bleed through. He wanted to tell her that she didn't need to, that any vulnerability only made her more wonderful. 

She had looked down again, and his heart dropped. If she couldn't bring herself to be honest, even now…

"No more lies." It was barely a whisper, a breath of air containing such precious vulnerability. 

"No more lies." He repeated, squeezing her hand and running a finger along her knuckles.

He looked up just as she did, and he felt that they'd never been closer than in this moment. 24 years stretched out before them, and he just wanted to know this woman before him better, pry open those locked areas of her heart, gently. 

He ran his fingers along her cheekbone, and she leaned into his touch, her eyelashes fluttering as she closed her eyes. 

"What do you need?" She said quietly.   
He moved his hand to play with the curls in her hair, and she smiled. "I need you to stop hiding the damage from me." 

He hated asking things of her- especially when he knew it would be hard, but he needed to know every inch of her, love her the best he could, before- 

He couldn't do that if she was still hiding from him.

There was a slight pause, and then she took another shuddering breath. "I promise."

 

* * * 

He was doing his best not to watch River sleep, but when she looked like that... 

Golden hair splayed out behind her, mouth curved upwards in a small smile of contentment, and bronzed arms thrown across herself, it was no wonder she'd been mistaken for various goddesses and queens through the years. 

Just as long as there weren't any gods or kings looking to take her away. 

She stirred, mouth parting slightly in a delightful early morning sigh. Oh, he was most definitely completely besotted- so much so that he didn't even mind. 

"Please tell me you haven't been watching me sleep." 

He raised his eyebrows, only then realising that she hadn't yet opened her eyes. How had she known? 

"I can hear your breathing." She offered by way of explanation, stretching before throwing the covers off herself. "Also, I felt you move some point in the night." 

The presence of her had overwhelmed him, their last night finally upon them, the time ticking loudly in his head, and he just- he'd had to go. Had to stare up at the stars, remind himself that they had 24 years, and he couldn't spend them grieving. That was for afterwards, and afterwards didn't bear thinking about. 

But he couldn't tell her that, and there was subtle hurt in her voice that he hadn't stayed the night. 

"I needed the toilet, and then- well, I didn't know how to get back in, and I didn't want to disturb you." 

The last part was true, at least. She nodded, smiling slightly, deciding to believe the best of him. As she always did. 

She shook herself awake, that wonderful hair bouncing everywhere, and reached for her spray. Her nightgown dissolved into a long black dress, simple but elegant. 

He stood, taking her hand. "Would you believe me if I told you you looked amazing?" 

"You don't need to bother," she told him, smiling. "I know you don't really have any idea." 

"I- well, I'm not usually very good at this kind of thing, but I- I really think you do look amazing." 

She laughed. "Doctor, you barely know how old people are. The last face had no idea he looked twelve."

"He didn't look twelve-" 

"See? Point proven." 

Her hands slipped from his grasp as she moved to make the bed, and the moment was gone. 

"So, " she said, smoothing out the white sheets, "what are we doing today, dear?" 

"House searching." He said, shrugging on his velvet jacket. 

"What?" She spun around to face him, eyebrows raised. 

He cursed himself. He'd just assumed that she'd want to settle down, want to have a normal life with him for these years. But she loved adventure just as much as he did, and she wasn't tired, not in the same way he was- 

"Or not. It's up to you, really."

"You're staying?" Her voice carried a forced lightness, but was far too quiet. She'd really thought that he wouldn't- 

"Of course I'm staying." 

"Oh." She breathed, sitting heavily down on the bed, looking down. Her breaths were carefully controlled, even, but he could tell that she was hiding. 

He knelt down beside her, put his fingers underneath her chin and lifted her face up, gently, forcing her to face him. Pools of tears threatened to creep from her eyes, and he wiped away a stray one. 

"What is it?" There it was, that elusive gentleness that this voice was so unused to. 

"You don't stay." She said, her voice surprisingly even. "You always run. You're so afraid of loosing people, you never stay long enough to find them. You're scared that if you stay for long enough, if you give yourself time to think, everything will catch up with you, and you won't be able to keep going." 

He'd never heard it said out loud, never admitted it even to himself. But she was right, this woman who saw the depths of his broken, aching soul. 

"You're worth staying for." He choked out, tears threatening to fall from his own eyes. 

If River Song could dare to cry, he could dare to stay. 

He touched his forehead gently to hers, and she closed her eyes. 

"I don't deserve you." She whispered, finally opening her heart and letting her words out.

"I don't deserve you." He answered, giving her the truth. 

Then he took her hands and stood them both up. She wiped a tear from his cheek and leant into him. 

"Let's go find ourselves a house." 

He took her hand, and they left the hotel room, debating the various drawbacks and merits of different houses. 

It was going to take a long time to stop the lies, the hiding. For all that their marriage had been, it had never been linear, and it had never been honest. 

But it would be. Here, it finally could be. 

Love was a promise, and they'd both promised a long time ago.


	2. Chapter 2

They spent two weeks in a fruitless house search. It consisted of bickering about everything, from the colour of the front door to the size of the kitchen, but never letting go of the others’ hand. 

River woke him with a "Hello, Sweetie." one morning, and refused to answer any of his questions as she led him towards the river. 

"You could tell me something, you know. I know you're very good at keeping things from me, but it's really not necessary-" 

"You really don't have any patience, do you?" 

He did his best not to sulk, but the smugness radiating from her was slightly unbearable. She was enjoying this far too much. 

The river was beautiful at night, lanterns casting warm glows on the water and inhabitants of all races mingling about. 

River walked straight up to a human, dark skinned and wearing a green suit. He followed after a moment, frowning in a way that never failed to make River laugh. 

"I really think you'll like this boat." He was saying. "There are hundreds of rivers flowing through darillium- they really are at the heart of the planet." 

He whispered to River that it seemed apt, and she rolled her eyes at him. But when she thought he wasn't looking, she smiled to herself, and he knew she'd heard him. 

The man led them along the river, talking enthusiastically to River. He walked on the other side of her, watching for her reactions. 

"A river boat?" He whispered to her, when the man paused for breath. 

"Well, I didn't want you to get bored of me. A house in the same place is a big step for you, dear. " 

"River-" 

"You're still staying, even if we don't stay in the same place." 

He had to admit, the boat was beautiful. It had been painted Tardis blue, and sat high in the water, proud and adventurous. 

River pulled him closer to her, whispering in his ear. "I thought we could make a few adjustments- the same size inside and outside is quite boring, really." 

That was him sold. 

They worked on the time lord technology for several weeks, but both their heads together was more than enough, even for something that complex. River was in her element, complex equations and concepts nowhere near a match for her brilliant mind. 

And when the worked on the mechanical aspects, River in her work clothes, sleeves rolled up and hair tied back, was a sight for sore eyes. 

When it was finally finished, they stored the Tardis carefully within it, close enough for comfort but far enough away that neither of them would be tempted to run. 

River’s eyes had sparkled when he'd told her that, and she'd kissed him thoroughly. 

She’d designed the rooms herself, not letting him see a single one, but it was worth it when she led him through. 

An extensive library, filled with books in all languages and from all planets- but a huge number from gallifrey, some of which he hadn't seen since before he'd left. Then there was the bedroom, the bed a ridiculous mass of sheets and cushions, and the bathroom, with a bath that was most definitely big enough for two. A kitchen with a huge amount of workspace, for him to 'make a mess in’, a swimming pool, two other bedrooms 'in case we get bored’, adjoining studies, a wardrobe- 

She finished in the living room, a warm fire crackling in the hearth, and varying sizes of two person seats arranged around it. 

He sat down on the smallest of them, and River sat on his lap, legs curled around the arms of the chair. "What do you think, Sweetie?" 

"I think," he said, playing with the curls in her hair, "this is perfect." 

Then he kissed her soundly, showing her how grateful he was to have her for these years. 

She smiled in contentment, like she often did these days, and traced the lines in his cheeks. "Did I mention that I love this face?" 

"A little too often for me to believe you." He said, teasing her. 

"No lies, remember?" She said, and he smiled.

"No lies." He repeated, softly. 

He wrapped his arms further around her, resting his face in her hair. 

"You still haven't told me what happened before you came here." 

He leant back into the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. 

"We must be getting old." She said, softly. "We'd never had stayed still this long." 

"I'm not complaining." 

"No." She answered, that beautiful gentleness back in her voice. "Me either." 

There was another moment, and he kept twisting the curls in her hair. 

"What I am complaining about though, sweetie, is you keeping things from me." 

"I've told you all about my regeneration, and Clara-" 

"You haven't told me what happened after the raven. What happened to make you forget her." 

Oh, she knew him well, his wife. She knew that even now, he couldn't stand to hear that she'd died. Died under his care- 

"How do you know something else happened?" 

She sighed. "I thought we said no lies." 

He couldn't stand the hurt in her voice, but all he could do was ask again.

"You're getting worse and worse at losing companions. And I know that if I hadn't been there after my parents, you- well, I don't know what you would have done. Something you'd have regretted. And Clara- Clara was more like a child that any of them, someone you had to protect, particularly when she started becoming more foolhardy, more like you. And when that cost her everything- well, you wouldn't just stand by and let that happen." 

He told her everything. He couldn't help it, not after that- that demonstration of how well she knew him. Of how much she would help, if he'd only stop lying. 

"4.6 Billion years." She whispered, when he'd finished. "Oh, you idiot." 

"I had a duty of care." He said, quietly, and then he found that tears were crawling down his face. It wasn't just for Clara, he knew- it was for all of them, all those children he'd lost along the way, because he'd needed them. 

She kissed them away, gently. "She chose to come with you, again and again, just like my parents did. And even if you can't remember anything, you know this- that she wouldn't take it back. None of them ever would." 

"What do I do with them? All those people who died because of me?" 

"You carry them with you." She said, softly. "And you let go of all that guilt." 

"I don't know how." He admitted. She looked up at him, her gaze tender, ran her fingers through his hair. 

"Do you trust me?" 

He searched that beautiful face, moved a stray curl from around her eyes. 

"Always." 

"Good." She said, kissing his forehead. 

"Then trust me when I say it wasn't your fault. Oh, you've made mistakes- but you never meant to hurt anyone. You always do everything you can, give all you have, and you always warn them. I know there is darkness in you, I see it- but I see that light that shines through, eclipses it. You are a good man, Doctor, even where there is no hope, no witness, no reward. You can't expect any more of yourself than that." 

He couldn't stop himself from crying, then, and he wondered at why those tears that had once been so elusive seemed to fall so easily. 

"Oh, sweetie." She whispered. "Don't you know how loved you are?" 

"Someone took it upon themselves to show me with a distress beacon, if I remember correctly."

She laughed softly. "Then don't forget. Allow yourself to see the light, forgive yourself. For me." 

"I want to. I- I don't know how." 

"We've got 24 years." She said, carefully, and he held her even closer, mingled his tears with her hair. 

"What would I do without you, River." 

"Be even more of an idiot." She said, affectionately. "Just- remember my words when I'm gone." 

He closed his eyes against that thought, against that reality. Not now. 

"I promise." He breathed, resting his head on hers. 

They stayed like that for a long time, taking comfort from each other. 

"There's something I need to ask you."

He threw the words out, carefully, knowing that if they were to be honest, this- this was what lay between them in the moments of silence, what haunted him in the nights as he watched her sleep. 

"Anything."

He felt that such complete trust- the offering of everything- shouldn't be said in such a matter of fact way. But for her, that trust had always been a fact, always been complete and unfailing. He could ask anything of her, and she'd do it. 

He didn't deserve it. He didn't want it, in a way, didn't want to be her weakness. 

Now was the time to ask her. 

"Did you mean what you said? About- about me not being there, not..." 

He trailed off, unable to finish. All those other things she'd said- 

"Tell me you haven't been worried about that.”

He waited, giving her that unconditional trust she deserved. She'd tell him. 

A sigh escaped her lips, and he didn't comment on the way she trembled slightly in his arms. 

"Yes." She breathed, reluctantly. "But I think you already knew that." 

"Well, if anyone could confuse a scanner like that, it would be you." 

She laughed, and he cursed himself, for in his haste to make it easier again he'd lost the moment. And now- now he didn't know how to tell her that he'd wanted to always be there, that he loved her. Loved her more than he'd ever wanted to. 

"It's alright, Sweetie." She said. "I understand." 

He slipped his arms underneath her legs and stood, carrying her. She raised her eyebrows at him, but he carried her all the way through their new home, pressing kisses to her forehead and her lips all the way. 

I love you. 

Why were those words- that truth- so hard to say? 

When he'd laid her gently on the bed, despite her protestations that she was perfectly capable of walking, he laid down beside her, his arm thrown around her waist. 

"You fight my demons brilliantly, you know that." He said, gently. 

"We can fight them together." 

He wanted to say something about her own demons, but the words didn't make it out. He couldn't bear to pry, not when it might hurt her. 

"We've got 24 years." She was saying, and he turned to smile at her. 

"24 years." He repeated, resting his forehead against hers. 

He would show her that he loved her, and one day, he'd get those words out. She needed to know, had to understand what she meant to him, before it was too late. 

"Where shall we go?" 

"Anywhere you like." He whispered. 

They discussed the various attractions along the river systems, he tracing his fingers along her neck, until she fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

He walked up to the deck, taking in the sight of River standing by the railings, basking in the moonlight. It glinted off her hair and skin, highlighting her curves as she turned to him. 

"You're staring, honey." 

He smiled, and reached to take her hand. "Shall we go ashore, dear?" 

She nodded, giving him that delightful besotted smile. That was the gaze she saved only for him, a love that she'd fought so hard to feel written clearly on her face. 

She insisted on changing, and he tapped his feet impatiently as she vanished into the depths of their boat. 

Trips along the Rivers of Darillium had been more perfect than either of them could have imagined. It was quiet, slow, and they could spend whole days inside if they wanted to, but when they didn't- 

Everywhere in Darillium was opened to them, new scenery always scrolling past them as they make their way down. And there were new people to meet, too- people for River to charm and dance with whilst he watches and does his best not to look jealous. And then she'll laugh at him and pull him onto the dancefloor, whispering that he's an idiot and she's all his. 

And River looks beautiful against all those backdrops, so much so that he can't help but take pictures when she's not looking. He made the modification on his screwdriver ages ago, but there's only ever pictures of her on it. And tonight, he's got the Tardis to print them all out for him, because tonight is the night he tells her. 

He's ordered hundreds of her favourite flowers, red roses. He's twirled the delicate red blooms around trees and overhead, and he just hopes it'll be enough. 

He doesn't know how she hasn't noticed him sneaking out at night and bringing the boat to shore before creeping to his hiding place. It's been happening for weeks now, but he just wants everything to be perfect. 

She comes out just as he runs his fingers over the ring in his pocket, checking it's still there. He almost drops it on the floor, ruining the surprise. 

She's in black again, a dress that hugs all her curves and pools at her feet. Silver accents highlight her necklace and earrings, sparkling in the light. 

He must be gaping, because she smirks. 

"I do love that shade of red on you, darling." She purrs, and he kisses her gently on the lips before offering her his arm. 

"You look beautiful." He murmurs, and she glances down, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. She can never quite keep up her teasing facade in the light of his tenderness.

He resists the urge to pull her close to him and kiss her soundly. That's for afterwards- after she's seen all he's done, after she knows. 

She gasps when she sees it. 

It's a glade in the middle of the forest, the moon bathing it with gorgeous light. He's arranged the flowers in a heart, twisting the rest through the branches and overhead, and there's a clear path marked for them to make their way to the middle. 

"Sentimental idiot." She mumbles to him, but he swears her voice shakes slightly as she leans into him. "You are ridiculous." 

He leads her forward, to the middle of the heart. Her hand in his is trembling, and he wonders what's going on in that beautiful mind of hers, whether she still doubts, after all this time. 

He turns to look at her, and the sight takes his breath away. In the moonlight, silver jewellery glinting, and that elegant, black dress... 

She always blows him away. But here, bathed in the moonlight as if she was crafted from it, sparkling in it as if it was made for her, she's never looked more beautiful. 

"And you," he says, drawing out every syllable, "are beautiful." 

She rolls her eyes at him, but there isn't any feeling behind it, not really. He smiles at her again- he can't help it- and sits them both down on the grass. 

The black book is waiting for them, and he places it in her lap. She raises her eyebrows, but opens it anyway. 

It's every photo of her he's ever taken, printed in beautiful colour and laid out for her to see. He sits just behind her, letting he turn the pages and watching her expressions. 

At the beginning, she's all raised eyebrows and dramatic sighs, calling him a sentimental idiot and a stalker. Then, as the pictures go on, as she gets older, she's all 'this angle isn't good, sweetie, you should know that' and 'did you really have to take one of me sleeping?' by the end, perhaps she's seen what the pictures show, because she falls silent, just looking. 

There's River in every guise- black suit, black boots, ready to rob a bank; green dress, brown belt, spinning a gun in her hands; red dress, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes; and his favourites, her sleeping in every position imaginable, hair splayed out behind her. She's fierce and unguarded, strong and vulnerable, dressed up and clear faced, but she's always beautiful. 

He rests his head on her shoulder as she flicks through the last few, brow furrowed slightly. He reaches out and smooths away the lines, gently. 

"Why?" She breathes. "You never want to remember, you never stop long enough to treasure a moment, you-" 

He stops her, putting a finger to her lips. He takes her hand, lifting her up. 

They're both stood, facing each other, bathed in the moonlight. 

Now. His heart whispers. Now. 

"I love you." 

It comes out perfectly, and he knows it's only because he's been saying it in his heart for so long, whispering it in his actions and every caress. 

There's nothing but devastation on her beautiful face, tears sliding down her cheeks. She opens her mouth, as if to reply, but she only manages a shuddering breath. 

He takes her in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, stroking her hair. 

Those words- the truth- are even more beautiful now they've slipped from his lips, and he can only hope that she believes him. That she can. 

Her tears wet his suit, running in black rivulets down her face. She's too emotional even to care, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close, as of afraid he'll slip from her grasp. 

He doesn't know how long they stand there, only that eventually he sits back down on the grass, River on his lap. Neither of them have spoken, both hesitant to break the magic is that truth. 

He'd never thought he'd love like this. Hadn't wanted to, not knowing that love would be worth the heartache. He'd take every last bit of it, again and again, for this moment. 

River moves to look at him, the lines of her face tracing so many emotions he can't place any of them. 

He slips his free hand in his pocket, slips out a small, black box. She takes it, wordlessly, gazing up into his eyes. And for a moment, all those complex emotions fade, and it's just the two of them, understanding each other, at last. 

She opens the box, and her hand flies to her mouth when she sees the contents. 

It's the wedding ring she never had, an elegant, curved band of gold, studded with tiny diamonds. He slips it on her finger, breaks the silence. 

"I married the diamond." He explains, and she kisses him.

It's tender and trusting, slow and full of salty tears. She's more vulnerable than she's ever been, emotions opened like a book for him to pour over. 

They lay down, watching the moon cast its light over them both. She leans into him, her curls brushing his chin, and he kisses every one. 

"You believe me?" 

She stiffens. "I want to." She admits, voice hoarse from disuse. 

"What's stopping you?" 

He does his best not to sound disappointed, but he musnt succeed, because she wraps her arms around him, holds him close. "I'm sorry, sweetie. It's not you." She smiles, a tenderness that would have astounded a younger River slipping out. "You are perfect." 

"Then why-" 

She echoes his earlier action, pressing a finger to his lips. 

"You see all of me. You always have. You understood me when I couldn't, held my hand as I walked the road here. But you've seen- seen the parts of me that I can't stand. No-one could love that." She ran a finger along his cheek, gently. "I'll love you anyway. I don't mind." 

It's his turn to cry, but he doesn't realise it until she wipes one from his cheek. "Please don't cry, Sweetie. Please." 

He stared at her in bewilderment. How she could still doubt it, still think that she wasn't worth loving- 

"I love you." 

She closed her eyes, took a shuddering breath. “Don't, sweetie." 

There was a long pause, all his grand gestures floating away. Her insecurities ran as deep as his own, but he'd never doubted her love. Had known it from the first moment he'd known her. 

But then she'd sacrificed herself for him that day, given everything, continued to give everything. And he hadn't. 

He continued to hold her, mind racing for ways to make her believe him. It could take time- time to convince her that he loved the parts she didn't- but he had to show her. She deserved that. 

"Do you trust me, River Song?" 

"Always." 

"Then trust that I love you." He whispered, and he she sighed heavily. 

"That isn't fair." 

He moved a curl back from her eyes, gently. "I trust you. And so when you tell me I'm a good man- I believe you, despite what I see in myself. Because you've always seen all of me, and seen it clearly." 

"Oh." She breathed. He smiled down at her. 

"I- I don't know if I can." 

"We've got 24 years." He whispered, and she smiled through her tears.

"24 years." She echoed.


	4. Chapter 4

"Doctor?"

He looked up at the sound of his wife's voice as she came downstairs, hair hanging loose and wet around her shoulders and silk dressing gown tied loosely round her waist. 

"How was your shower?" 

She sat down next to him, crossing her legs over his and peering at the photo album in his hands. 

"Someone was missing from it." 

He kissed her forehead, and when he pulled away she was giving him that beautiful shy smile. "I thought you probably needed to actually have a shower." 

"Hmm." 

She frowned at the photo album again, and his gave her a knowing smile. "what?" 

"Some of the photos in there are terrible. Like that one." She pointed to one of his favourites, her stretched out in sleep, arms and hair everywhere. 

"I think they're beautiful." He said, bopping her on the nose. 

She closed her eyes and smiled at the familiar gesture. "I think you have no idea what beautiful looks like." 

She'd always thought that, and there would have been a time when he'd agreed with her, but now... Well, if his wife wasn't beautiful, he didn't know what it was. Didn't want to, actually. 

"Hmm." 

She snuggled close to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "How did you take all those photos?" 

"My sonic screwdriver." 

She raised her eyebrows. "Your sonic screwdriver takes pictures?" 

He nodded, grinning at her. "I made the modification after- after our wedding." 

She smiled at the memory, fitting her arm around his waist. "Why?" 

There was a slight pause, the truth still slightly heavy on his tongue. "I didn't want to forget anything. I didn't know how much time I had left."

"You're a sentimental idiot, you know that?" 

He rested his head on hers, not caring that her hair was still damp. "Only with you, dear." 

"Good." She whispered. 

They stayed like that for a while, just taking comfort from each other's presence. He wrapped his hands around hers, lacing his fingers with her slim ones, his callouses meeting hers. 

"Could you do the same modification to my screwdriver?" 

He turned to face her, eyebrows raised. "Of course I can. But why-" 

"I don't know how much time I have left." She said quietly. "And I don't want to forget anything." 

"I don't understand why you'd want photos of me." He admitted. "It's not exactly like I look- like you." 

She smiled gently, reaching up to cup his cheek. 

"Because I love you." 

It was barely a whisper, but the words still rang out, a proclamation that she'd made so many times before. It still never ceased to amaze him. 

He smiled, and met her hand with his. "And I love you." 

She looked down, refused to meet his gaze. "You don't have to do that." 

"Do what?" 

"Pretend. I don't need it- I can love you anyway, I don't-" 

He put a gentle finger to her lips. "I'm not pretending." 

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again and flashed him a naughty grin. "Just do that modification for me, will you sweetie? I don't want to forget those eyebrows." 

He nodded, wrapping his fingers around her curls. 

"I should go dry my hair." 

"River-" 

"I'll be back, you idiot." She said, detangling herself from him and sauntering over to their bedroom. 

He closed his eyes as she left. She did her best to be honest with him, but when it came to this...

She refused to believe that he loved her. Whether because of what he'd done, who she was, or what it meant, he didn't know. Maybe it was a combination of all three. 

But he couldn't let her go to the library without knowing. Never in a million years could he let that happen.


	5. Chapter 5

They'd gone ashore as soon as they were up, River in a simple blue dress with her hair wild and unkempt. 

"I think nights are more beautiful." She decided, smiling as she looked up into the star-splattered sky. 

"I think you might be slightly prejudiced." 

She grinned up at him, bopping him on the nose. “You do, do you?" 

"I thought that was my thing." He said, doing it back. 

She laughed, leaning into his side, and he fitted his arm around her waist. 

"So," he said, "what have you been up to since after Manhattan?" 

She laughed. "That might take longer than a morning walk, darling." 

"I've got time." 

"You want to know?" 

"Of course I do. Everything." 

She rested her head on his chest. "Alright, then." 

She told him, adventures only River Song could have. Several times he held her closer to him, as if the dangers she recounted threatened to steal her away, and she'd laugh at him. Other times, they'd both be throwing their heads back and laughing, she tossing her curls beautifully. 

"I meant to ask you." She said, absentmindky running her fingers through the tall grass, "how long it was since we spent that time after Manhattan." 

"I- without counting the 4.6 Billion, I suppose it was around 1,000 years." 

"What?" She stopped dead in her tracks, and her hair whipped around as she spun to face him. 

He shook his head. "Well, there was the time on Trenzalore, and travelling with Clara... It'll be about 1,000 years since after Manhattan." 

He looked up from his contemplation, surprised to see complex emotions flashing across River's face. 

He stepped up behind her, putting his arms around her waist. She took his hands, but didn't say anything. 

"What is it?" 

"1,000 years is a long time." She whispered. "that's all." 

"Don't hide from me." 

There was a long pause, in which her eyes firmly refused to meet his own. 

"This is hard, isn't it?" She sighed, looking back up at him. 

"But worth it." He said, gently. 

She turned back around, studying the ground. River Song vulnerable was rare, but he would always be grateful that she allowed him to see every facet of her, even the parts that no-one else saw. 

"I- I would have thought you'd move on." 

He moved to face her, taking both her hands in his own, forcing her to look up at him. 

"Love is a promise." 

She closed her eyes, taking a shuddering breath, and he folded her into his arms, gently. "Please believe me." He whispered. 

She didn't say anything, just buried her head further into his chest.


	6. Chapter 6

He shouted it across the cavern of San-Sact, River a blurry figure across the rope bridge, but he could have sworn he felt her smile. 

He nuzzled it into her neck during their sensual nights, whispering it in her hair and across her skin. 

He spoke the words slowly every morning, making sure it was the first thing she heard, drawing out every syllable. 

He screamed it as she pulled him over the top of a river bank and straight into the water, stealing the breath from him. 

He insisted upon it when she'd be obstinate, try and list what she'd done and stack it up as a wall against him. He'd take down every action, every doubt, with those three words. 

He hummed it in those quiet moments, books open on both their laps, twisting their feet around each other as they sat on the sofa. 

He attempted to tell her in the middle of the sea, but the words were only bubbles, not quite reaching her, floating to the surface as she laughed at him.  

He told her after he found out she was ticklish, as she lay on their bed, clutching her stomach with laughter. 

He'd tell her each time she cried, each time she told him something new about herself, each time they settled on the sofa and really talked. 

The words never lost their meaning, though they slipped increasingly easily from his lips.

At first, the words would floor her every time. She'd attempt to glare, but not quite manage it- she'd only look down, unable to find words. He'd spend the next few minutes telling her everything he loved about her, but she'd always manage to turn it around to what she loved about him. And then they'd carry on with their day, sailing down the river or exploring the lands around it. 

Then, she'd smile to herself, as if she thought he couldn't see, and immediately change the subject- tell him she loved him, kiss him, go running off across the fields. But he'd catch her, later, deep in thought, wrestling with herself. 

He'd prove it to her. Even if it took 24 years.


	7. Chapter 7

"What are you thinking?" He asked, bopping her on the nose as they sat in front of the fire. 

"How do you know I'm thinking something?" She teased, leaning back to look at his well-loved face. 

"You've got your thinking face on." 

"I do not have a thinking face." 

"Yes, you do." 

"Oh, shut up." 

She could feel his smirk on the back of her neck, but she leaned further into him anyway. 

"So," he said, tracing her name in Gallifreyan on the exposed area of her back, "are you going to tell me?" 

She sighed. 

"No hiding." He said, softly. She took the hand curled in her hair and kissed it. 

"I hate being vulnerable." 

He stiffened slightly beneath her, but didn't stop drawing her name. 

"And you've always brought that out of me, these months more than ever before, and I- I don't want to cry, or be vulnerable. I don't- I can't stand the idea of being weak." 

He wrapped his arms firmly around her, kissed her forehead. "You have never been weak, River." 

"But I am now." 

"No." His denial came as soon as she spoke, and she managed a little self-deprecting laugh. 

"Doctor-" 

"Strength isn't hiding. Strength is allowing yourself to feel, to open up to others, to be vulnerable. Strength is facing the truth and not turning from it." 

She sighed, nestling her head on his chest. "Then why does it feel so much like weakness?" 

"Because that's all you've ever been told." 

She stiffened, but he knew they'd been through her conditioning a thousand times. He was the only one who really knew how it had seeped into her life- and how valiantly she'd fought it. 

"I hate that they still have a hold on me." She said, quietly. 

"The last vestiges." He promised. "And we're going to sweep them all away." 

He twisted his head to kiss her, and she smiled as she leaned into him. 

When they broke apart, her smile faded, and she looked down again. 

"I still have the nightmares." 

He held her tighter, closed his eyes. "Wake me up when you do?" 

She nodded, her voice faint.  "It's their hold on me. Even now." 

"We're all products of everything we've been through. But you- more than so many- have made your own life, your own decisions." 

"You think so?" 

"I know so." 

She smiled, and then scoffed. "See? I'm acting like I've only just met you again, like I need your reassurance-" 

He stopped her with a finger to her lips. "Your vulnerablity only makes you more beautiful." She raised her eyebrows, so he raised them back, smiling. "I mean it. I love every facet of you, but there's something about you opening up to me that I- it's just you. Without any pretences or barriers, and I- I love that. I love you." 

He watched her face, tracing her cheekbone as emotions flashed across it. 

"You believe me yet?" He said, quietly, already knowing the answer. 

"I don't know." She admitted. "I'm sorry." 

He smiled, kissed her nose. "Don't be. I'll just have to keep showing you, won't I?" 

Carefully, he traced the three words in Gallifreyan on her back. 

She tensed, taking a shuddering breath. "You're insufferable." 

"I know." He murmured into her neck, kissing it gently. "And you're stubborn." 

"Guilty as charged." She breathed, leaning up to kiss him fully.


	8. Chapter 8

"Are you happy, River?" 

She took his hands from around her waist, and rested her head back into his chest. 

"What do you think, sweetie?" 

He kissed the top of her head. "I want to say that you are." 

"You'd be right, you idiot." 

He breathed "Good." Into her neck and then kissed it, and she leaned into his touch. 

There was a long moment where neither said anything, just breathing in the others scent, content. 

"Have- have you always been happy?" 

She twisted in his arms, turning to face him. "What brought this on?" 

He didn't say anything, just looked at her with that heartbreaking tenderness- a look that always made her ask a question she couldn't answer. 

"Yes, darling, I've always been happy." She answered him quietly. 

"I- I haven't always been what I should have been."

She smiled. "Neither have I." 

Then she sighed, burying her head in his neck. "I could never have imagined any of this. Wouldn't have dared.” 

"Because of what I made them do to you." 

She shook her head. "You know that I never blame you for that." 

"Doesn't mean it wasn't my fault." 

She sighed again, wrapped her arms tighter around him. "That made me into who I am today. As did you leading me from the darkness to the light. And I wouldn't change a thing." 

He only wrapped his arms tighter around her, buried his face in her hair. 

"And I'm sure you're worried about me not believing you loved me, too. But I want you to know that this- this is more than I could ever imagined, and any time with you has always been so precious. I'm happy. I've always been. I wouldn't expect you to love me- not when I know who I am, and who you are." 

"But I do." He whispered. "I always have." 

"Hush, now." She said, putting a slightly shaking finger to his lips. "Just know that what you've given me is enough."


	9. Chapter 9

"River?"

"Mmm?" She looks up from her book, golden curls falling across her face, and it almost takes his breath away.

Here- just the two of them- should be perfect, and it's so very close. But there are little things- and most of them are to do with what he knows he is, what he knows he's done to her.

"Am I a good man?"

She frowned, and the concern in her eyes was almost too much for him to bear.

"What you are," She said, closing her book and leaning forward, "Is an idiot."

She kissed him gently, stroking his face as she pulled away.

"Has something happened?" She asked, quietly. "Something that I don't know about?"

"I've told you everything." He said, and it was the truth. "No more lies, and no more hiding."

"And you trust my judgement?"

"Over anyone else in the universe."

She smiled, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. "Then believe me when I tell you you're the best man I've ever known."

He couldn't return her smile, doubt clawing at him. This wonderful woman- someone he'd hurt, perhaps more than any other- couldn't possibly believe that. "So much of your pain has been caused by me."

She sighed, gently. "And it made me into the person am I today. Would you change that?"

"No.” The sharpness of his tone broke the quietness of the moment, but he didn't care. He couldn't have her believing, even for a moment, that she wasn't perfect in his eyes.

"I love everything about you." He finished, watching her beautiful face carefully. 

Her next breath was slightly shaky, but she continued. "Then don't you dare feel guilty, you idiot."

She arranged herself on top of him, head beside him on the arm of the sofa and the rest of her splayed out over him, legs twisted with his.

"You're still not convinced."

"I-"

"No more lies, Sweetie."

He kissed her nose, tenderly. "No more lies."

It took him a moment, but he knew that she would wait. Had been so patient with the years they'd had.

"I- I look at all I've done, and I- I can't see a good man."

She brushed her back from his face, locked her eyes with his.

"Remember when you first told me that you- you- loved me."

He nodded, hating the hesitation in her tone.

"And what did you say?"

"That I- That I believed I was a good man because I knew you knew me better than I know myself."

"And that was the reason I should believe you."

Oh, she was clever. Far, far too clever for him. Twisting his own words against him had never been done so smoothly.

"I hate you." He whispered.

"No, you don't." She told him, a smile curving her lips at the familiar phrase turned around.

She settled down, her head on his shoulder, and neither spoke for a moment.

"I suppose I just have to trust you. Trust your judgement of me over what I see."

"Yes." She breathed. "That's what I have to do, too."

"It's hard, isn't it?"

She laughed lightly, then nestled her head further into his shoulder. "We've got 22 years."

"22 years." He echoed, and kissed her soundly.

He could be brave, and trust her. Maybe, she'd trust him too.

It would take time.

But as she's taught him- the best things were always worth waiting for.


	10. Chapter 10

River is beautiful when she runs. 

She's elegant in a way he's never managed, even when running for her life, hair bouncing and eyes sparkling. 

She grins at him, eyes lit up at the thrill of imminent danger. He knows the grin on his face matches hers. 

Then she spins around, disables the robot with a well placed bullet, and tackles him to the ground to shield him from the debris. 

The explosion rattles all around him, and he holds her close to him as the debris falls. She's still shielding him with her body, and he'd try to protect her if he was able to move. 

Flames crackle in the distance, and all he can do is hold her and hope it doesn't reach them. 

When the explosion has rattled through their bones and he can move again, she lifts her head from his chest. 

Her face is streaked with soot and blood, hers and his own, and her hair is a wild mane, metal trapped in it and blood caking it to her face. 

She grins at him, her eyes sparkling. 

"You're beautiful." He breathes, gently brushing metal from her hair. 

She rolled her eyes at him, but pulled him up and held him close. 

"I guess that's one way to solve the problem." He said, picking metal out of her hair. 

"I knew we'd be alright." 

He raised his eyebrows, and she only smiled sweetly as she picked debris out from his own, brushing his shoulders off. 

She looked around at the mess they'd made. Small fires were still smouldering, and the metal of the robot was strewn all through the field, trampling over the burnt wheat. 

"We should probably clean this up." 

She raised her eyebrows at him, and he grinned. Then he scooped her smoothly into her arms, despite her protestations, and carried her all the way back to their boat. 

"I'm perfectly capable of walking myself." 

"Can't I be romantic every now and then?" 

"I'm pretty sure blowing up a robot ruins any romantic mood." 

"Not with you."

She only smiled, rolled her eyes good-naturedly at him. "You're a sentimental idiot, you know that?" 

He set her down when they reached the boat, studying her and frowning. 

"What?" 

"You're hurt." 

He reached up to touch her face, running a finger along the cuts.

"I'm fine." 

"Let me clean you up." 

He took her hand, and to his surprise she let him lead her down into the boat. He set a slower pace, the cuts scattered through his skin nothing compared to what she'd taken. 

Even now, she was protecting him. It should be him protecting her, shielding her from the hurt because he'd caused so much of it- 

"Your guilt is audible." She said, quietly. 

"You shouldn't have done that." 

"You should know by now that I always will." 

"I've put you through enough-" 

"Stop it." She snapped, stopping in her tracks and waiting for him to turn and face her. "Just stop it." 

Her hair was huge behind her, scattered with dirt and shrapnel. Cuts littered her skin, but her eyes were as fiery and bright as ever. 

When she spoke again, it was with beautiful tenderness and conviction flickering in her eyes. 

"If I could go back, I wouldn't change a thing. Not one line.” He must have look disbelieving, because she took both his hands, drawing him closer to her. 

“It hasn't always been perfect, but it's always been us.” She squeezed his hands, love written in the lines of her battered body. “You're worth everything."

He squeezed back, but couldn't meet her eyes. 

"No, I'm not." 

"You trust me?" It was a challenge, but her tone was still soft. 

"Always."

"Then trust my judgement." 

He sighed, and she held him to her. "Don't you dare let yourself forget that. Ever." 

"Will you let me clean you up?" 

"As long as you let me clean you up." 

"You first?" 

"You're insufferable." 

He broke away, bopped her on the nose. "If you're going to protect me, you've at least got to let me look after you afterwards." 

"Sentimental idiot." She said, but let him take her hand and lead her towards the lounge. 

"Only for you, dear." 

He set her on the sofa when they reached it, pressing a kiss to her temple as he went to get the first aid kit. 

His hands were shaking, because he knew there was pain she was keeping from him. 

Her shoulders had tightened. Even as she'd spoken with such love in her eyes and movements, she'd been hiding the pain. So well that no-one but him would ever notice. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning on the shelf. 

He couldn't begrudge her the ability to protect him. That didn't mean he had to like it. 

He couldn't stand it, couldn't face what he might find, the scars she might bear- 

He swiped the first aid kit from the shelf, clenching his jaw. She was hurting. And his cowardice was only prolonging it. 

She was lying on her front when he entered, her eyes closed. She tensed when he arrived, attempting a smile. 

He sat on the coffee table, and she rolled her eyes. 

"It's not a seat, darling."

"The others are too far away." 

"Well, pull up a chair then." 

"Would take too long." He said, opening the kit with still shaking hands and unrolling the bandages. 

"I'm not sure I want a doctor with shaky hands." She said, softly. 

"I don't want anyone else touching you." 

"How delightfully possessive of you." She purred, and he would have cursed her for hiding from him if he hadn't known she needed this. Needed to protect him in the little ways, convince even herself that she was fine. 

"I'll need to cut your top off." He warned her. 

"That sentence suggests a much more exciting evening." 

"It'll hurt." 

"Everything does at the moment, sweetie." 

He kissed the top of her head for that, let her know how much he appreciated the truth. 

He composed himself from a moment before reaching for the scissors, gently cutting a line up her top and peeling the fabric away from her back. 

He did his best not to look, but he couldn't help himself. 

Burns and cuts littered her back, a patchwork of ruined and bleeding skin. Bruises littered the skin that wasn't red or peeling, shades of blue and purple and green. 

He couldn't let her take this for him. Not one hair on her head, he'd promised himself, and this- 

He could heal it. He could take everything away, if only she'd let him- 

"Don't you dare." She said, firmly. 

"Dare what?" 

"We both know exactly what you're thinking, and I'm telling you not to dare." 

"I promised myself I wouldn't let you hurt because of me." 

She twisted her head to glare at him. "That's not your decision to make. It's also highly impractical, and you know it."

He sighed. “I- I just hate seeing you hurt."

"And I hate seeing you hurt, Sweetie. All those times you've nearly sacrificed yourself- the Pandorica, the Byzantium, Easter island- do you think it wasn't like that for me? I never found a balance- sometimes I let you do it, though it tore me apart, because you had to, and other times... other times I just couldn't. I’d take these cuts and bruises a thousand times over rather than that."

He couldn't say anything, just gently applied medicines to the wounds.

"I'm sorry." He managed, a few minutes later.

"It's not your fault, sweetie. it's how you are, and I won't ever ask you to change that."

"I won't ask you to change, either."

"That's what you're doing."

"I'm sorry."

A single tear trickled down his face, landing with a splash on her back.

Her voice was softer when she spoke again.  
"I'll always protect you. Because I love you. I can't change that, though I wish you didn't feel so guilty."

"I know." He murmured, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I'll need to wrap bandages all the way around you, to protect your back."

She nodded. "Shall I stand?"

"If you can."

"Of course I can." She said, pushing herself up with her elbows to a setting position. "What do you take me for, some kind of pain amateur?"

He tensed at that, and she must have seen,  
for she stood and cupped his cheek.

"Now you're the one hiding from the truth."  
She stroked his cheek, and he steadied her, his hand on her arm.

"I'm alright, sweetie. I can take pain. And I know you don't want me to feel it, but I don't mind. I'd take it all, so long as I get you."

"I'm not worth it." 

She kissed him, gently. "Yes, you are."

He rested her head on hers for a moment, but she stumbled slightly, and he knew that standing was harder than she was letting on.

How she'd walked most of the way here, he didn't know.

"May I?" He asked, gesturing to her top.

She nodded, but couldn't conceal a grimace as he peeled the rest off. Her front was unblemished, but he didn't let himself be distracted by golden skin and curves.

She was smiling faintly at him, so he whispered "Beautiful" into her neck.

She scoffed. "My back isn't beautiful."

He met her green eyes as he spoke again.  
"Your back is the story of your love for me. Whilst I hate that it hurts you so, I'm very grateful for it." 

She smiled softly before speaking again. 

"Can I see it?" 

He tensed at the thought, but asked: "Your back?"

"The story." Her voice was barely a whisper, 

"Don't you already know it?"

"I want you to tell me it."

He sighed. He knew her like he knew himself, but that was the one mystery still not fully revealed. How, and why, she loved him.

“You've shown me your love so beautifully and completely, but I- I don't think I can tell the story .It'll always be a mystery to me that you love me. But… I can tell you the story of my love."

"Doctor-"

"Would you like to hear it?"

She nodded, almost imperceptible, biting her lip.

"Good." He murmured, smiling at her in the hope that she'd smile back. She didn't, training her gaze to the ground.

So he took the bandage, wrapping it around her as he spoke.

"I don't know when I first fell in love with you. I spent so long trying to run, but every time you'd draw me in. I'd pretend that it was because of the adventure that I loved the time with you, that it was because of your cleverness, but I think a piece of me was falling, even then. From the beginning, you implied so much, and I'd watch everything- the way you always cared, but always coped; the way you saw everything just as I did, or before; you way you could flirt and plan and comfort, all so effortlessly, and I... in truth, I'd never met anyone like you. Not just because you knew everything about me, but because you were extraordinary in your own right. I don't know when it was, but I settled into running with you, into flirting with you, till I was looking forward to the next time we met. And before long, you were kissing me, and I wasn't just looking forward to when I'd see you, but dreading the goodbyes-"

"Stop it." She whispered, her voice choked with tears. "I can't hear you talk about me like that when it isn't-"

"Isn't what?" He asked, gently, cutting the bandage and then reaching up to wipe her tears.

"Isn't me."

He took her hand, leading her towards the sofa, where she sat down, gratefully. "I know you, as well as you know me."

She didn't reply, so he propped her feet on the dressing table and being cutting off her leggings, gently carrying on his story.

"Then I found out who you were. I'd never felt closer to you in that moment, and then I knew- knew that it hadn't been the mystery that I'd wanted to solve, but I'd wanted to know you. Know you as you knew me. And then Berlin, and you giving up everything, and suddenly it was my turn to look after the woman I loved. And I didn't know what to do, because for so long I'd been leaning on you, and I failed you so many times-"

"You were perfect."

"Don't be ridiculous."

Her interruption, though softly spoken, had nearly startled him into cutting her, and he'd spoken harsher than he intended.

"I failed you, River. We both know that."

"I know you were everything I needed. I know that imperfections in you made it so much easier for me. I also know that you made me love a man who I'd been conditioned to hate- a pretty impressive feat, if you ask me."

He dared to meet her eyes, and found her giving him a slightly wobbly teasing smile.

He returned it, tending to the cuts and bruises littering the back of her legs.

"Though it was hard, and I was figuring everything out, I relished that I had a chance to know you. That I understood why you did and said what you did and said- that I could predict what you'd do next. That, imperfect as my comfort was, I could give you something of what you needed. And then you tore apart the universe for me, and I was angry because I was afraid. Afraid of you hurting others and yourself for me, because I knew that your love was fierce and burning... but by the end, I knew you'd have done the right thing. You were proving the truth to me, in your delightful, River way. After that we ran together, and how we ran. Through civilisations and planets, across time, dodging fixed points and helping where we could. That time was more precious than you'll ever know, and I never wanted to stop running. But then came your parents' deaths, and I failed you again-"

"We both failed each other, darling." She said, quietly. "Don't take all the blame when it isn't yours."

He smiled faintly at her before continuing. "And once we'd had that time, I feared I'd lost you forever. And I- well, I'm sure you know. I was barely the Doctor, I think. Only the knowledge of what you'd think of me kept me from becoming something else entirely."

"Oh, Sweetie." She leaned forwards, cupping his cheek with her slender, gentle hands. "Don't ever hurt yourself on account of me."

He didn't reply to that, just covered her hand with his own.

"And then I found you again, and you stood next to me and said that I'd never loved you. And I couldn't have you believing that, not fo a moment longer. Not when it was so far from the truth I'd been living for so long, but been unable to speak. "

She was crying in earnest again, and he wiped away her tears.

"Do you see?" He whispered, leaning his forehead on hers. "I love you."

She closed her eyes, more tears leaking out from under her eyelashes. "I want to believe you."

"Then do." He whispered, kissing the tip of her nose. "Then do."

She didn't say anything, just leant her forehead into his. 

“Do you want to hear the story of my love?” She asked, quietly. 

She nodded, tracing her cheekbone. 

He listened to her beautiful voice as he cleaned the rest of her cuts, let her wipe away his own tears at what she described. 

Once he'd finished and found her one of his shirts to wear, she made him sit down as she tended to the cuts on his face and arms. He would have protested more had the sight of her- his shirt, brow furrowed in concentration, hair in a halo behind her- not been worthy of several paintings.

When they finished, she curled up on top of him on the sofa, talking a little more before she fell asleep in his arms.

He whispered his love into her hair, hoping that one day, she'd hear it as readily as he said it.


	11. Chapter 11

"You are not going down that mine shaft." 

She placed her hands firmly on her hips. "Yes, I am. There are archeological discoveries at the foot of that shaft that need to be made-" 

"I'm not letting you risk your life for archeological nonsense!" 

She raised her eyebrows dangerously and extended her hand, giving him the rope. "If you wrap this around there-" she indicated a particular stone, "and let it out gradually, it'll hold." 

"Let me go down instead." 

She shook her head. "You'd probably destroy the findings just to stop me going down again." 

His irritation must have shown on his face, because she laughed. 

"Oh, Sweetie. You've got to let a girl live dangerously every now and then."

He considered protesting again, but he knew that face. "Alright. But I want to be able to communicate with you the whole way down." 

She rolled her eyes but injected him with a communicator, doing the same to her own hand.

"Happy?" 

"No." 

She only winked, and he grumbled as he tied the rope around the rock. 

When he finished, he turned to look at her. She was smiling, looking at him expectantly. 

"The other side will need to go around me, Sweetie." 

He offered a begrudging smile before tying it carefully around her waist, checking and double checking until she sighed.

"At this rate, I won't get anywhere, which I'm sure is your idea, but-" 

He stopped her with a kiss, tangling his fingers in her hair. When he pulled back, she was smiling. 

"Be careful." He said, firmly. 

"Ever so dull." She whispered, but traced a finger along his jaw before pulling away. 

She blew him a kiss before stepping out into the abyss. 

The rope took the slack immediately, and he pulled, hard. 

"That's alright, Sweetie." Came a voice from his communicator. "Just lower me down now." 

"What can you see?" 

"Not a lot, yet. I reckon this shaft goes down a long way." 

"Just be careful, will you?" 

"Only for you." 

He kept lowering the rope slowly, his hands less steady than he would have liked. Of something happened to her- 

Time could be rewritten, and if he lost her 21 years earlier than he should have done- 

"River?" 

"Yes, dear?" 

"I want you to know- if anything happens-" 

She scoffed, and he could almost see the look of derision she'd be casting him. "If I mining shaft was the thing to finish me off, after everything, that would, quite frankly, be embarrassing."

"River." 

She sighed. "I think I know what you're going to say." 

"I love you."

There was a long silence, and he resisted the urge to obsessively check how she was. 

"You won't let it go, will you?" 

"No. Not until you believe me."

"I'm trying, Sweetie. But you know why I can't." 

He sighed. "You see anything?" 

"I think I'm nearly at the bottom." Her voice was quiet, and he almost regretted saying it again. But he couldn't let her go to library without knowing- couldn't let her have any more years not knowing, thinking that all of this was only him caring about her. 

She reached the bottom of the shaft, and spent far too long taking pictures and documenting whatever rubbish she'd found down there. But she sounded excited, telling him that this solidified at least five different theories of her own before letting him pull her back up. 

He hadn't realised how much his heart had been in his throat until she appeared. 

She smiled at him, the flush of adventure still in her cheeks, as she reached the top and climbed out. "See?" She said, teasing him, "not a scratch." 

He undid the rope and folded her carefully in his arms, burying his face in her hair and breathing her in. 

"I love you too." She whispered.


	12. Chapter 12

She watches his eyes as he watches her, both of them content to hold each other under the sheets. 

But she's all too aware of his searching gaze, of how close he is, so she reaches over and turns out the light. 

"River?" He asks, switching it back on again. She has just enough time to twist around in his arms, her face and it's damning evidence far away. 

He hasn't noticed yet, but she knows he will. After Manhattan, she'd done her best to hide it from him, but it's been a while, and she's only growing older. 

He's always seen her as beautiful, whispered it into her skin, and she can't stand the idea of that ending. Of him seeing something in her that he can't kiss and pronounce beautiful. 

"It's nothing, sweetie. The dark is more atmospheric, is all."

He sighs, kissing the top of her head. "No more lies." 

"It's nothing important." She sighed into the darkness, snuggling down into him. "I'm not sure you'd understand." 

He sighed, wrapping his arms further around her. "Try me." 

There was a pause, but he only waited patiently. 

"You- you were very close, and the light isn't always kind, that's all. It really doesn't matter-" 

"River." 

She didn't say anything, so his gently cupped her chin, twisted her face about around towards him. 

She tried to reach for the light again, but he took her hand. 

He traced a finger along her cheekbones, and she couldn't help but lean into him as he pressed a kiss to each of them. 

"Beautiful." 

Then he traced her jawline and her nose, paying particular attention to the bump in the middle of it, ran his fingers along her eyebrows and the curve of her lips, planting kisses to each part and pronouncing them beautiful. 

Her eyes fluttered closed, and he pressed a kiss to her eyelids. "Beautiful." 

She tensed when his fingers moved to the side, found the creases beside her eyes that she'd spent so long trying to hide. 

He kissed them lightly, whispered "Beautiful." Into her skin. 

"Don't be stupid." She murmured, an unbidden tear slipping out from beneath her eyelashes. 

"Beautiful." He repeated, tracing his fingers over them again. 

"Doctor." She took his wrist to push his fingers away, but he wouldn't move. 

He waited till she'd let her eyes meet his before speaking. "So you're allowed to not care what face I wear, even when I go from a 12 year old to an old man, but I'm not allowed to love the lines beside your eyes?" 

It was a soft question, but a challenging one nonetheless. 

"That's different." 

"No, it's not." 

She dropped her eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. "It doesn't matter what face you wear. It's always been the man inside that I've loved." 

"And you think that just because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, that matters to me?" 

"Stop it." 

Her voice came out choked, and she hated how weak it sounded. 

"No." He answered her, softly, moving his hand from her face to take her hand in his own. "Not until you know." 

"I'm not what you think I am." 

"You're not what you think you are."

She forced herself to face the sincerity shining in his blue eyes, face softened. 

"I know everything about you. I've seen you grow, loved you over hundreds, thousands of years. I know you just as well as you know me, better than you know yourself. And I know that you won't let yourself believe all that you are." 

She could only bury her head in his chest, not trusting herself to say anything more. 

"I love you, River. Even those lines beside your eyes." 

She wet his shirt with her tears, but he only held her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and fitting her against him. 

A little while later, just before she drifted off to sleep, she whispered into his chest. 

“I love you too, Sweetie. Always.”


	13. Chapter 13

He watched her as she got ready, the slit of her black dress rising high enough up her leg that he swallowed. 

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" 

"It's a surprise." 

"I don't like surprises." 

"Don't I know it." He murmured, unable to resist standing and walking towards her. 

He tangled a finger in her curls, and she sighed in mock irritation. "I've just untangled them, darling."

"I don't know why you bother." He said, watching as she painted something on her face. "You're always beautiful." 

She rolled her eyes, but he could see a faint blush colouring her cheeks, and he allowed a smug smile. 

"I can feel your smugness." She said, flicking her eyebrows up. 

"Are you nearly done?" 

She turned to him, raised her eyebrows dangerously, and then turned back to the mirror. 

“I mean it, you know. That you always look beautiful.” 

She sighed, slightly shakily. “Well, forgive me if I don't take your word for it.” 

“And why not?” 

She turned back to him, raising her eyebrows again. “Because you barely notice what I'm wearing, that's why.” 

He just looked at her, did all he could to put all his love and care and wonder in that one look.   
She swallowed heavily, dropping her gaze for a moment. 

 

He knelt down, brushing hair back from her ear. "I always notice you, dear." 

"Glad to hear it." She whispered back, her breath catching slightly. 

Then she stood, beaming up at him, and it lit up the room, taking his breath away. "Shall we go?" 

He took a moment to take her in, impossible curves hugged by a scandalous black dress, halo of curls glorious, and lips a seductive red. 

She practically preened under his attentions, eyes bright. "Come on, old man. Surprise me." 

He made to take her arm, but she wrapped it around her waist. "That's too far away." 

They walked out into the night, stars sparkling above them. She shivered slightly, and despite her protestations, he gave her his jacket. 

"You didn't have to take me out, you know." 

"It's your birthday." 

She leant further into him, curves somehow managing to be warm despite the chill in the air. "And I would have been perfectly happy to remain tangled up in bed with you, as per the last 9 years." 

"And who says that's not the plan for later?" 

She grinned, lacing her fingers with his. "Can you please tell me where we're going?" 

"Nope." 

"You're insufferable."

"But you love it." 

"Always." She rested her head on his shoulder as they walked, her curls tickling his neck. 

Once they were in view of the singing towers, she turned to him, eyes sparkling. "The singing towers?" 

"I was going to take you somewhere else, but it's the only proper attraction on this planet."

"I love them. You know that." 

"Yeah." He stopped, curling a curl around his finger. "I do." 

"Come on." She said, catching his hand. "Or we'll never get there." 

"I thought you didn't mind." 

"It's the singing towers. That changes things." 

Then, to his delight and astonishment, she broke away from him, running forwards. 

"Come on!" She called, laughing over her shoulder as her curls bounced. 

She looked so carefree, the child she'd never been, her evening dress and beauty a contrast to her childish glee, that it brought a lump to her throat. 

"Getting slow in your old age?" 

He growled deep in his throat, putting his long legs to use as he bounded forward to meet her. 

Then, in a fluid motion, he slipped his arms under her legs and her torso, lifting her up. 

"What do you think?" He murmured in her ear. 

"You'll do." She replied, brushing a kiss to his cheek. 

He carried her the rest of the way, until she convinced him to put her down, just before they were in view of the door. 

"I'd like to retain some dignity." She whispered as they approached. "Besides, I don't want to tire you out too much." 

He knew he'd blushed crimson, but he didn't have it in him to complain. 

River put on a good show of being a respectable darilium citizen, though there was little point. They were notorious by this point, and River thrived on it.

When they reached the table, she lit up, remembering, as he did, the night where everything had changed. 

Linear time, just the two of them. The life of a married couple. 

River beamed through all the courses, though he did regret quite how far away she was. She managed to take his hand early on in the meal, and he didn't get it back until they were finished. 

Not that he minded. 

She was stunning, and several times he found himself just watching her, overawed by her beauty and her wit and her brilliance. She shined, shined like no-one else he'd ever met. 

Sometimes, it was bright and blinding, burning his eyes when he looked at her; other times it flickered, from sunlight to moonlight, a thousand different facets whirring across her face and through her mind. But on Darillium, it was a steady, warm glow- a constant brightness that eclipsed the sun. 

He was a sentimental, besotted old man. But he couldn't find it in himself to mind. 

"Sweetie." She purred, eating her dessert positively sinfully, "You're staring." 

"Can you blame me?" 

"No." She preened, dancing her fingers over his palm, "But you do need to remember that there are other people in this restaurant." 

"I thought you didn't mind scandalising the locals. Isn't that basically your trademark?" 

She smiled, a wide, delightfully naughty smile. "I was sparing you from the resulting embarrassment. Besides, I'd quite like to come here again. Since it's my favourite restaurant." 

"I thought it was that one on-"

"I thought it would be rude not to love a restaurant that my husband commissioned with the hallassi diamond."

He did his best not to gape, but from the twinkle in her eyes, he suspected he was. "You know about that."

"Of course I know. It's blindingly obvious, darling."

He needed to kiss her. Right this moment.

She could tell- of course she could- because she out down her spoon, smiling mischievously. "You finished?"

He'd been waiting for her for the past ten minutes, the sight of her far more engrossing than his own abandoned dessert. She knew that very well.

"I think so."

"Are we going home?" She asked, standing, and he could tell that she hoped the answer was no.

"There's dancing upstairs, level with the singing towers. Invitation only, but I got us some tickets."

She stepped towards him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Well, then. We'd better go." 

"There's a slight detour, first, if you don't mind?" 

"Oh?" 

He rummaged in his pockets for a bow tie, and she raised an eyebrow. "We're getting married again?" 

"Not tonight." He held the bowtie up to her eyes and she sighed. 

"Really?" 

"Yes." 

She turned, letting him tie underneath her hair. He ignored the strange glances as he maneuvered her out of the restaurant, light touches on her arms and waist enough to direct her. 

She was counting steps underneath her breath, so he took her on a slight detour. Not that the back room in which he'd stored the dress would mean anything to her, but still. 

"Would you stop leading me in circles?" She sighed. 

"How did you-" 

She laughed, brightly. "I'm a trained assassin, remember?" 

"Hmm."

They'd reached the room, so he opened the door, inspecting the ballgown one more time. 

He'd seen it when arranging tonight, and it had been so perfect for River that he'd bought it on the spot. But whether she'd like it or not was another matter. 

He untied the bow tie, brushing fingers over her cheeks, and then stepped back to give her a full view.

The bodice was sheer golden lace, the skirt flying out in various golden waves, deeper and softer tones underlying them. 

Her mouth flew open, and remained that way, hand flying up to cover it. 

"You bought this?" 

He nodded, twisting his hands together in anxiety. "You like it?" 

"Sweetie." She breathed, stepping forwards. "It's beautiful." 

"Really?" 

She nodded, smiling widely. "You'd better vacate the area so I can get dressed." 

He returned her smile, stepping outside. 

She took far too long, and he found himself pacing outside in the corridor, ringing the bow tie between his fingers.

It was their wedding one, and he'd kept it in his pocket since that day. Not that he would tell her that. She wouldn't believe him. 

But if tonight went as planned, she'd finally understand. 

The door opened, and the sight of her took his breath away.

“I should probably ask how you know my measurements.” She said, running her fingers along the skirts. 

“You shouldn't need to.” He offered her his arm, and she took it, beaming up at him. 

Dancing with River Song was a privilege, one that he'd indulged in again and again through the years. But tonight, with ten years behind then and fourteen ahead, and her in that beautiful dress… 

She was perfect. Perfectly imperfect, in a way only River Song could be. 

She cast him adoring, besotted glances, ones he'd found he loved just as much as her heated, seductive ones. 

Her skirt swirled around the dance floor, other partners stopping to watch. It was her they were watching, he knew. Over the years, he'd grown used to the attention she garnered, but tonight she was something unearthly, almost otherworldly. 

But it was the love lighting up her face that he treasured most, the little tells that only he knew, the lines beside her eyes that creased when she laughed. 

When everyone else had stopped staring and casting him envious looks, and the music had stopped, they too stopped, breathless and sore-footed. 

“Thank you, sweetie.” She breathed, collapsing into him. 

“We're not finished yet.” He said, stroking her hair. 

The lights winked out, and she laughed. “I think they might be giving us a hint.” 

“When have you paid attention to hints?” 

“When I'm wearing a dress that deserves to be seen.” 

They made their way to the edge of the hall, tripping over wine glasses and goodness knows what else. She laughed and fell into him, and he stifled his own laughter in her hair. 

Eventually, they made it outside, and he led her forwards, she holding up her skirts expertly. 

“I've something to show you.” 

"Another surprise? Sweetie, you've already taken me to dinner and dancing. A girl would think you were trying to make up for something."

"Ah, but you're not just any girl."

"Oh?"

"You're River Song." He bopped her nose, and she melted into him.

"What?"

"I'd missed that."

"You should have said! I would have-"

"It's not the same if I have to tell you to do it. But you've done it now, anyway."

He let out a slightly grumpy hummph, but pulled her closer to him.

“I hope we're not walking very far, because this dress is quite heavy-” 

“Stop complaining.” He said, pulling a blanket out of his pocket and lying it down on the ground. They were just out of sight of the restaurant, the towers just ahead of them. 

Then they begun singing. 

“Oh.” She breathed, looking up in wonder. He took advantage of her distraction, rigging up a temperature welder to keep a warm air bubble around them. 

She glanced back at him, gratefully, and then joined him, lying back on the blanket. 

“Did we do this when we were young?” She asked him, flushed and content. 

“We were never young.” 

She bit her lip, smiling mischievously. “I was.” 

“Don't remind me.” He said, settling an arm around her waist and another through her hair. 

“What? Unwilling to accept your status as a dirty old man?” 

He bopped her nose again, and her answering smile was worthy of several paintings. “Only if my wife disapproves.” 

“Oh, your wife certainly disapproves.” 

Her kiss was more beautiful for being unhurried, passionate yet tender. 

When they broke away, the fireworks began. 

He'd made them himself, making sure that they exploded and hung in the air long enough for her to read the complex Gallifreyan, the words she deserved to hear. 

The moment the first one exploded, she gasped, turning to him. 

“Doctor-” 

“You're missing the fireworks.” He murmured, gently. 

“I'd rather look at you.” She murmured.

He knew what she meant. That the truth of what he felt was dangerous, hard for her. But, ever so gently, he turned her back towards the fireworks. 

Every one was a line from his diary entries. He'd been about to explain it to her, but she'd already realised. Of course she had. 

She won't stop flirting with me. I kind of like it. 

She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And that's saying something, because the southern lights on Clom? Amazing. 

I think the Tardis likes her better than me. The worst part is, I'm not even annoyed. 

Somehow, the moments when I'm not with her are leaden. I don't understand it. 

I should have held her close from the beginning. Because we're running out of time, and that scares me more than anything. 

She took his hand, nails biting into his palm, and he pulled her closer to him. Tears were streaming down her face, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sky. 

I'm drowning in her. Every moment is hers, and I don't understand. But I also don't mind.

I meant to protect myself, and her. But she melts all my walls and determination with those two words. 

The love of River Song is something I could never deserve. And yet she gives it so freely. 

I think, all the years I've been travelling the universe, I've been looking for her. 

She lights up even my darkness. 

How does her smile never fail to take my breath away? 

If my enemies could see me now, they'd laugh. Then River would elegantly disembowel them. 

Holding River Song is a privilege I will never take for granted. 

I hate that she hides from me, that she doesn't tell me everything. But I suppose I can't expect any more of her. She's already given far too much. 

She was shaking, her hand in his so tight he knew her nails would leave little moon shaped marks. 

The latest firework faded away, and he held her closer for the last truth.

I love her. Always and completely, and more than I've ever loved anything. 

As it faded away, raining gold on the both of them, she turned to him, eyes shining, and buried her head in his chest. 

He held her for a long moment, letting her tears take their course. When she emerged, her smile wobbly but genuine, he kissed her gently. 

“There's one more thing I have to tell you.” He said, softly, and she offered another tentative smile. 

“Haven't I heard enough?” 

“Not nearly.” 

He took a deep breath, memorising the lines of her face as he spoke. 

“What I tell you next, I tell you because I love you. Whatever might happen next, whatever you might have to say, know that. And know… know that what happens next has made it so much harder for me to tell you, not easier. That I should have told you earlier.” 

Then he pulled curls back from her ear, and whispered his name. 

She gasped, searching his eyes with such reverence that it broke his heart.

“Your name.” She whispered. “You told me your name.” 

“What do you think of it?” 

She smiled, with such tenderness that he almost gasped. “I always wondered what it might be, but could never come up with anything. But now that I've heard it… it couldn't be anything else.” 

He kissed her, deep and true, wiping tears from her cheeks as she pulled away. 

“I love you.” She said, resting her forehead on his. 

“I know.” He murmured. 

Then he pulled away, cupping her cheeks and watching her eyes as he said: “I love you.” 

Her eyes were wet, but her voice was steady as she said: “I know.”


	14. Epilogue

The Doctor held River close to him, as if by holding her he could prevent what was coming. He was aware of every inch of her skin on his own, how her hair grazed his chin, how her body was neatly fitted between his arm and his body, her head on his chest. 

He curled his fingers around her hair, memorising the touch and scent and taste of her. 

For the last time. 

He couldn't do it. He couldn't give her up. 

He only realised he was crying when he noticed tears dripping slowly onto her hair. 

"I can't let you go." 

The words- the truth- slipped out before he could stop it. 

She twisted to face him, and the concern in that beautiful face broke him again. Those green eyes, bright and sparkling and alive.

She always insisted on being so alive. 

He knew how she would look. Be it years, months, weeks from now. She'd be twisted and burnt in the depths of the library, and he would never hold her again. She'd never surprise him with those two words, never tease him, never lean across the TARDIS to fly it perfectly, her hair brushing across his face-

“Oh, sweetie." She said, her own eyes wet as she reached up to trace his cheekbone. “Hush, now.” 

So brave. She was so brave, even as she must suspect what was coming. And he couldn't comfort her, because he knew. Couldn't save her, because he had promised. 

"Just hold me."

He held her tighter, so terribly aware that he should do more. He should have given her more, given her everything he could, whilst he still had the chance. 

“Stop it.” She whispered. 

“Stop what?” 

“Wanting to change things. Wishing you'd done things differently.” 

 

“River-” 

She brought an elegant, shaking finger to his lips. "I wouldn't change a moment of our time together." She said, her voice choked. "Not one line." 

Not one line. Don't you dare. 

It was those words that had brought him here, brought him to holding River and waiting for a ending. He was filled with an overwhelming desire to change everything, keep her here, do it all again, better. 

But she wouldn't thank him. And he had promised her that, long ago. 

"I'm still here, darling.” 

She'd risen from his chest, propped up on her elbows to study his face. 

He reached up a shaking hand and cupped her cheek, wiping away tears. She managed a smile, leaning into his touch and twisting her head to kiss his fingers. 

“I'm sorry.” He said, voice heavy with emotion. “I'm so, so sorry.” 

“So am I.” She said, closing her eyes for a moment. “But I'm also so, so grateful. For you. For this time.” 

“I should have given you more.”

She smiled, kissing his forehead and then pulling away again. “You've given me everything.” 

He couldn't bring himself to argue, not when these last few hours were all he had left. Not when River's curls were tickling his cheeks, her eyes wide and wet. 

He leaned up and kissed her, passionate yet gentle, and she returned it eagerly. 

They only broke apart when even their lungs were aching, and shared a breathless smile. 

She moved to brush away a tear. He met her hand there, tracing her cheekbones and following up to the lines beside her eyes. 

She tensed, and so he brushed a kiss over them, pronouncing “beautiful.” as he pulled away. 

Her multifaceted eyes filled with tears, green and hints of gold swimming within her grief. 

Then she closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep but shuddering breath. 

“Let's go and watch the sunrise.” She said, twisting to the side and standing from the bed. 

He followed her, taking her hand with an almost ferevent urgency, as if she'd slip through her fingers if he dared to let her go. 

She saw all that, concern in her eyes deepening. But she didn't try and offer words of comfort, or tell him to carry on without her.

Because now she knew. Knew that leaving would break him as thoroughly as it would break her. And there were no words for that. 

“I ought to get changed.” She said, softly. 

He dropped his gaze, eyes pooling with more tears. 

There shouldn't be any left. Not after last night. 

She squeezed his hand. “Happy ever after doesn't mean forever.” 

“It just means time.” He finished, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. 

“And we've had so much of that.” 

There she was, his brave River. His incredible wife, managing to comfort him when her own heart was breaking. Finding the words when he couldn't. 

“Never enough.” He said, meeting her eyes. 

“Of course not.” 

Then she broke, surging forwards with a sob and burying her face in his chest. 

He held her tight, arms around her waist, and buried his face in her hair. 

“I don't want to go.” She said, her voice breaking. “I can't go back to that. Not after this.” 

“I know, darling.” He murmured. “I know.” 

He held her, just held her, for several moments as she sobbed. Then he felt her tense, heard her take a deep breath, and met her eyes as she pulled away slightly. 

“Thank you.” She said, softly. 

“Thank you,” he said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “for not hiding from me.” 

“I promised.” She said, by way of explanation. 

Then she stepped back. As much as it burned him to have her so far away, he knew it was necessary. 

He stepped back, limbs leaden, and sat back down on the bed. 

She turned, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it, carefully, off her shoulders. 

“Do you want it back?” She asked, facing firmly away. 

“Never.” He said, stepping forwards and enveloping her in his arms again. When she was in his arms, everything felt right. 

She leaned into his touch on her bare skin. “Thank you.” 

Neither of them wanted to pull away, but River was the stronger, and took a step. 

“Could you find me something to wear?” She asked, her voice shaking. 

He nodded, though that meant leaving the room she was in, and used his remaining strength to wander down the hall towards their wardrobe. 

She'd insisted on a separate wardrobe when they'd created their home, and he'd been powerless to resist. Especially when she'd smiled in delight, surging forwards to kiss him soundly- 

The wardrobe was filled with River's scent, her dresses, jeans and jodhpurs filling the space, though half of it was technically his. 

He picked a pair of black jodhpurs, ones he knew she found particularly comfortable, along with her blue leather jacket and that brown belt he loved. 

Today, she needed to be strong. Needed to be the River Song that ran around the universe stealing diamonds and marrying for strategic advantage, not the River Song who loved him. 

She nodded when he brought the clothes back, tracing her fingers over the leather when he handed them to her. 

“I'm not sure I can be her again.” She murmured. 

“She's still you.” He offered, retrieving her bra from where she'd abandoned it on the floor. 

She nodded, accepting the bra gratefully. “She still loves you far too much. She's just better at hiding it.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, running his thumbs over her cheeks. 

“If there's any consolation,” he murmured, “I think I've completely lost my ability to hide my love for you.” 

She gave him that brilliant, blinding smile, only dimmed slightly by the tracks of tears running down her face. 

“The universe can see us as grieving, separated spouses, then.” She said. 

“Who cares what the universe sees.” He offered. “I see all of you, and I love all of you.” 

“And I you.” She replied, beautiful in her loving grief. “Always.” 

He pressed her forehead to his own, and they took comfort from each others warmth. 

They both broke at the same time, stepping backwards. She slipped the jodhpurs on, and then reached for his shirt. 

He watched, lump in his throat growing, as she buttoned it back up, tucking the excess into her jodhpurs. 

Silently, he stepped forwards, and she let him settle the jacket on her shoulders and wrap the belt around her waist. 

“Always yours.” She said. “No matter what skin I wear.” 

He couldn't stop himself pulling her in for a kiss, and she responded eagerly, not caring that their lips were stained with salty tears. 

“Always yours.” He replied. “No matter what face I wear, and even when I don't admit it.” 

He could have sworn there were spoilers in her answering smile, but he didn't let that hope take hold. 

Instead, he slipped another one of his shirts and a pair of his trousers on- the set he insisted on keeping in the bedroom- and took her hand. 

“Time for sunrise.” She said, softly. 

He pulled her into his side, arms wrapped around her as they walked through their home. 

Each room was a kaleidoscope of memories, bright and blinding, spinning through both their minds and reminding them of one thing:

This was the end. 

But he didn't let the memories decompose, grow dark with dread. Rather, he revelled in the little things. The lounge, countless nights spent curled up in each other before the fire; the kitchen, him attempting complex dishes whilst River sat on the counter, distracting him mercilessly; the library, River's beautiful voice reading to him as he played with her hair- 

River tightened her hold around his waist. “They were wonderful, weren't they?” 

He smiled, thanking her for drawing him out of the well of memories. “You were wonderful.” 

“Thank you.” She murmured, her head falling onto his chest. “Thank you so much.” 

“As always,” he replied, kissing the top of her head, “I am the one who should be thanking you.” 

He set a slow pace, as if by delaying their view of the sunset he could delay it's occurrence. But he also wanted to have these last few moments in the rooms that had held so much love and hope. 

But, eventually, they reached the steps to the deck, and River slipped from his side to lead the way. 

“Come on, old man.” She said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “We can do it.” 

Out on the deck were her packed bags, the vortex manipulator lying on a table, teasing him. 

He had a sudden urge to grab it and throw it overboard, damn the consequences. He could take her in the Tardis, always going but never arriving- 

She broke from his touch to strap it on her wrist, and that image burned like a brand. 

Then she reached into one of her bags, drawing out a black bound book. 

“For when you're ready.” She said, passing it to him and taking his hand. “To remember.” 

He knew what it was, then- the twin to the book he'd given her, the night he'd finally said those three words. 

He kissed her in thanks, and she pressed into him, the book held between them. 

“I'll always remember.” He promised. “Even whilst I run.” 

Only she could know the true significance of that. She softened, eyes tender and trusting. 

“Like I remember no-one else. Because there is no-one else like you, River Song. No-one that I love- that I've loved, that I'll ever love- like this.” 

“Good.” She whispered, and smiled at his watery laugh. 

She collapsed into him, and they wrapped their arms around each other, the position as natural as breathing.

The steady hum of the boat, and the Tardis, within it, was soothing. Perhaps, if they stayed like this, they could delay the inevitable. 

But River must have known what he was thinking, because she whispered: “look up.” 

He did, seeing the Towers and the first tendrils of the sunrise, golden light spilling over the horizon far too fast. 

They made their way to the front of the boat, where River had set out cushions. 

“Of course you have.” He said, tenderly. 

She gave him an echo of her teasing smile, settling herself on the cushions to watch the towers as they approached. 

He settled beside her, holding her as close as he could. She intertwined her shapely legs with his, resting her head on his chest, just over his hearts. 

“Maybe I just won't let you go.” He murmured, more tears threatening to spill as the golden light grew.

“Unfortunately, we both know what will happen if we do that.” 

“And those are the only consequences that would stop me.” 

“How sentimental and immoral of you.” She said, in a tender imitation of her usual sultry purr. 

“You know I'm capable of being both of those things.” 

“I also know you've got better at the former and worse at the latter.” 

He held her even closer for her steady trust, and she continued. 

“Don't you dare start believing stupid things about yourself when I'm gone, alright?” 

He met her eyes. “I promise.” 

The sunlight was still growing, golds and reds and oranges lighting in her golden curls, twisting around them and shining on her face, all its grief and love written clearly in every line. 

“Don't you dare,” he said, taking her face in his hands, “ever doubt that I love you. No matter what happens.” 

“I promise.” She said, eyes bright despite her grief. 

He pulled her towards him and kissed her, putting all his love and gratitude in that moment. Again, she didn't let him go till both of them were breathless, for every moment spent without each other was a torment. 

He tore his gaze from her to find, to his horror, that the sun had already reached midway up the towers. 

“River-” 

“Hush, my love.” 

He scrabbled about behind the cushions, trying desperately to find what he'd stashed there the night before. Eventually, he found it. 

A chip containing all the songs he'd written for her, the ones he'd played to her again and again through the years.

She took it, biting her lip. “Is this-” 

He nodded, and she threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” 

How easily pleased she was, this woman who deserved so, so much more from him. Who deserved the moon and the stars on a silver platter, who deserved a thousand sets of 24 years- 

“Sweetie.” She said, pulling away. 

He nodded, burying his face in her neck. 

Then the towers began to sing. 

Both of them were crying in earnest, tears slipping down well worn tracks. He kissed her, again and again, as fervent and gentle as the ones of last night, where he'd sworn to kiss every inch of her. 

She slipped her hands to his cheeks, and he did the same, watching her face as the sun lit it up. 

She'd never looked more beautiful. And that was really saying something, because River Song, from the moment she'd waltzed into his life, had defined beautiful. 

“I suppose.” She said, tracing his lips, “this is our last kiss.” 

“I'll make it a good one.” He said, and she murmured “you'd better.” Just before their lips met. 

The kiss was fervent and passionate yet gentle and tender, and she wrapped herself around him as he pulled her in closer. 

When they finally broke apart, there was only one thing left to say. 

“I love you.” She said, her voice steady despite the tears rolling down her face and her shaking hands. 

“I love you, too.” He said, his voice a choked mess. 

But she'd heard those words. Heard them and accepted them. And he'd loved her, loved her better than he'd ever dreamed he could. 

Now, she'd have to make do with old shirts and recorded songs. 

Somehow, she found the strength to step backwards. 

The loss of her touch burned as it had before, but this time it was unbearable, because he knew it was the last time. 

“I love you.” He offered, as if that could make her stay. 

She grabbed her bags, slipping one over her shoulder, and met his eyes, shaking with barely concealed sobs. 

“I love you, too.” 

With a puff of smoke, she was gone, and he sank to his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *holds hands up* Don't hate me! It had to be done, right? And there may or may not be a library fix-it that follows this in the works... So hold on. It'll be a while, but, you know, it's something? 
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading, leaving kudos and commenting on this! I can't tell you how much I appreciate every kudos, every read, every comment. I've loved writing it so much and reading your comments has only spurred me to write more. So thank you so, so much again.


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